


Young & in Love

by avaalons



Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Postpartum Depression, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avaalons/pseuds/avaalons
Summary: *Complete* Snapshots from a life with Chris.





	1. Beard & Glasses & Pushed Back Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader arrives home from a night out with her friends and Chris is just too irresistible.

You’d been so, so quiet when you arrived home. Practically a ninja. So silent and sneaky that he didn’t even realise you’d been stood staring at him from the doorway for a good ten minutes. Fuck, he was so incredibly sexy. Sometimes, if you concentrated on it too much, it took your breath away. Like, Chris Evans shouldn’t actually be allowed to exist, shouldn’t be allowed to roam the earth looking the way be does, surely? 

And right at this very second, you were barely able to resist pulling your lower lip into your mouth in anticipation. You were stood with your weight on one leg as you leaned against the door frame, the other crossed over it firmly as you let yourself take in that rugged beard, the thick rimmed glasses, the pushed back hair and furrowed brow, deep in concentration. 

He was working, you could tell that much; book in one hand, pencil in the other. You watched as his absent-mindedly twirled and twiddled the pencil back and forth through his fingers, the repetition almost mesmerising. An assortment of hardbacks and notebooks lay spread on the bed in front of him as he was lounging back on the pillows, torso propped up by one elbow. You so badly wanted to climb over it all and make that forehead crinkle for an entirely different reason. However, you were also aware that he’d probably taken advantage of the fact you were out with friends for the night and could have a couple of hours to himself to get some work done. So you simply stood and stared and tried not to sigh with contentment too loudly. 

Eventually, a gruff voice broke your reverie, ‘Are you going to stand there all night?’

His gaze hadn’t even left the page and he just knew you were there. The sound of his voice was doing nothing to quell the tingling now stretching from neck to your toes. You could almost feel the rough drag of his beard across your skin, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet, let alone touched you.

'I - I didn’t want to disturb you,’ you weren’t prepared to speak, only to look and appreciate. Silently. Very, very silently.

Chris glanced your way then, still holding the book and pencil, with an amused smile dancing against his lips, 'Maybe, sweetheart, you should have thought of that before you fell in the door, threw your heels down the hallway and then pinball-bounced your way up the stairs. But nice try, I appreciate the thought.’

'You knew I was here the whole time??’ 

'Must be my incredible senses. Did you have a fun night?’

'Yep,’ you grinned, recalling the lines and lines of cocktails on various bars, 'Had a great time. Danced a bit.’

'Only a bit?’ One eyebrow twitched up. Seriously, even that was sexy. Damn him.

'Okay, a lot. Feet pretty sore. No boys though,’ you were baiting him.

'I should hope not. Glad you had a good time. Why didn’t you call? I’d have come and picked you up.’ The book and pencil had been laid down now. Hopefully for good.

’S'okay, I got a lift off one of the girls’ boyfriends. They were heading this direction anyway.’ 

'Hmm,’ was the only response you got as his eyes drifted appreciatively over your body through those damn glasses. You felt like you were swaying a little, despite the support of the door frame, and under his gaze, you felt hot all over. There wasn’t a ton of material in your dress anyway but all of a sudden, it felt like there was a whole lot less.

'Chris…’ you were practically squirming. You were sure that static was crackling in the air, jumping the distance between this fucking Adonis and you, his goddess.

'So, are you sleepy drunk or-’

'No,’ you cut him off without a moment’s hesitation, 'Not sleepy. Not at all.’

'Good, that’s what I was hoping for.’

He didn’t move, and neither did you, but you could feel your breathing become erratic and your pulse pounding in your ears. That last Prosecco cocktail had your nerve endings standing to attention. 

Then, like a moth to a flame (you were, apparently, too drunk to think up similes that weren’t total cliches) you began to take tentative steps towards him. And he simply watched you. 

'I think I’m going to need help getting this dress off. The zip is a bit awkward.’

Chris closed up all of his books and set them on his bedside table, laying the pencil on top. He tried to be nonchalant about it but the haphazard pile gave him away. He rose from your bed to meet you as you gathered your loose hair in one hand to reveal the zip tracing your spine. You turned your back on him and you instantly felt his warm hand on your upper back, undoing the zipper painfully slowly. The exposure of your overheated skin in the cool air made goosebumps appear all over you, and these only intensified when you felt the tickle of beard and the gentle press of soft lips where your zipper ended at the small of your back. He must have crouched down. Strong, confident fingers slid under the tight hem of your dress, exploring the tops of your thighs and pushing the material higher and higher. You could feel the tension in it relax when it was pushed up and over your butt, gathered and resting on the tops of your hips. 

'Fuck. Me.’ You heard him curse softly under his breath but you bit back the obvious response. He dropped a kiss against one butt cheek before he turned you around. Your fingers instinctively laced themselves through his hair. He looked up at you with something like awe in his expression, 'You went out without underwear on?’

'Everything I tried made my dress look weird so I went without in the end,’ you shrugged sheepishly, gently and affectionately raking his hair, then dropped your voice to a faux-conspiratorial whisper, the buzz of alcohol making you bold ’D'ya want to know something though?’

'Go on,’ he replied, humouring you.

'I thought about you tonight. A lot actually.’

'You did? And what would have you thinking of me when you’re out drinking and dancing with your friends?’

'Every time we went to a new place and we were waiting at the bar to be served, I imagined that you showed up and were stood behind me, slightly to one side but really close. So no one could see what you were going to do.’

He immediately stood up and circled you. He stopped behind you and stood as close as he possibly could, until the length of his left leg was pressed firmly against the back of your right.

'Like this?’ that soft gravelly voice in your ear sent a shiver straight down your back and you could only nod in confirmation, 'And then what did I do?’

'Your hand. It - you started touching me.’

'Where?’

'Just skimming the inside of my thigh, under my dress.’

Your dress in the real life version of this scenario was, of course, now unceremoniously bunched up around your middle but still, his right hand lay flat against your lower abdomen, clamping your body to his and then you could feel the fingers on his left brushing the sensitive skin on your inside upper leg. Your body was rigid, every artery in your body working over time to keep your blood pumping to where it needed to be.

'And then?’

'Higher.’

The sensation moved fractionally, but still nowhere near where you needed it the most, 'Here?’

'Higher, please,’ your voice came out as something between a strangled demand and a plead.

'But sweetheart, we’re in a public place,’ he teased you, dropping a light kiss under your ear lobe. None of the pressure was enough. You could literally feel the whole hard length of his body encasing you, but his touch was too light, his kisses too gentle.

'Chris, please,’ you fought to keep the sob out of your voice. 

He must have felt mercy for you then because he used his knee to nudge your legs further apart and then, with something almost like relief, but not quite, you felt his fingers finally, finally reach your most sensitive part. One at first, circling, stroking, teasing. 

Then two. Broader strokes this time, bolder, applying more pressure, spreading your wetness around and around. You squeezed your eyes tightly closed, barely able to stand it. You’d been imagining this for hours, and had worked yourself into something nearing a frenzy. His touch was treading that fine line between sheer blissful relief and unsatisfactory teasing. He was purposefully keeping you teetering on the edge, and you knew it. 

'Chris, I swear to god, if you don’t go inside soon, I’m going to come down there and do it myself,’ the hours of self-imposed torture mixed with plentiful sugary, fruity cocktail had made you desperately direct.

But your words did not have the intended effect as his manipulations stilled. He was silent for a moment, his breathing slightly shallower, and then when he spoke, his voice was deliciously low and rough.

'Show me.’

You blinked for a second, processing his request, and then your own hand travelled down the front of your body, skimming over your skin and seeking out his fingers where they lay still and nestled against you from behind. You found them quickly, slick and warm, and you wasted no time in pushing them back towards where you most wanted them to be, guiding his index finger slowly inside you, first from the middle joint, then the knuckle when that disappeared. You worked together; he pulled out and you pushed back in. The sensation had your head falling back against his shoulder and rolling towards his neck so you could breathe in that warm, masculine scent. The hand against your stomach kept you steady and upright at least.

'Another one,’ you were ready to take this up a notch and he pulled his hand back slightly to press his index and middle fingers together so you could push them both back in. The stretch was slight but enough. For now. 

Your other hand now crept lower and lower, wanting that sense of relief on the outside again, and you began circling as you fucked yourself with his fingers but Chris was there quickly, wriggling his hand under yours and stilling. You realised with a start that he wanted you to move his fingers over your clit too. There was almost too much feeling, too many sensations and you could feel your body beginning to climb. You had to actively remember to take a breath every so often. Chris let out something like a soft growl as your knees began to shake and he felt more of your writhing weight against that arm running from your hip, across your abdomen and down to where you pushed and pulled his fingers through your heat.

You were losing the methodical movement and control of your hands as you scrambled towards release but Chris wasn’t done with you yet. He fought against your ministrations and stopped you from pumping his fingers inside you. He caught your other hand in his, leaving without internal or external stimulation, almost at unravelling point. 

'Mind if I take over from here?’ He spoke into your ear softly, 'Call me selfish but I like to see your face when you come.’

You nodded your head emphatically. Of course you didn’t mind. He could make it a thousand times better than you ever could. But that didn’t stop you from actually wanting to cry as he removed his hands properly from your skin. They weren’t gone for long though, and they were quickly under the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and up towards your head.

'Good. Let’s get you out of this, it’s covering you up far too much for my liking.’

You lifted your arms up obediently and he gently tugged it off you, careful not to get the lacy material caught on your earrings. And there you were in all your naked glory, flushed from head to toe. Missing his touch after having gone seconds without it, you spun around to find him having already shrugged out of his jacket and now pulling off his tshirt. You dived in to help with his lower half, unbuckling his belt, popping open the button on his pants and releasing the zipper. He was ready, pulling trousers and boxers past his hips the moment you had finished with the fastenings. You crouched to hold the pooled items steady while he stepped out and then you looked straight ahead. Jesus Christ. You still got that flutter of excitement when you saw him naked, just as you did the first time the two of you had sex, knowing that soon, he would be inside you.

You leaned forward and placed a tentative kiss against the place just to the right of where his defined V of muscle dipped low on his abdomen. No sooner had you done that, however, than he hauled you up quickly, curling one arm under your knees and turning to lay you on the soft mattress in one smooth movement.

Hands were planted either side of your head as his knee firmly nudged your legs apart.

'No time for that,’ he’d known where you had intended to go after that kiss, 'Need to be in you. Now.’

You laughed and curled your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you. 

'I’m the one that’s been torturing myself all night, with thoughts of you and your talents. I’d have thought you’d have had a little more patience and self control.’

'You’re lucky you made it out tonight. Watching that ass wiggle it’s way out the door is the hardest thing I ever do.’ 

'Poor baby,’ you caressed his cheek. You loved how beautiful and sexy and wanted he made you feel, 'Did you have to go jack off?’

'No. There I did manage to impose some self control. Knowing you’d be back and I’d get to do this.’

You beamed at him, practically glowing under his compliments, before reaching up to remove his glasses, reaching behind you to place them on the side table. His expression turned quizzical.

'Didn’t want them getting broken. I suspect that this isn’t going to be gentle, sweet love-making,’ you couldn’t keep the excitement out of your voice. You were already reaching down with one hand between your bodies to grip his length and guide him to your entrance.

'Hey, I’m always sweet with you. And with us it’s always love-making,’ he leaned down to capture your mouth with his as his tip nudged against you, finding its home. He went slowly at first, allowing you to feel every solid inch, until he was in to the hilt. You were squirming under his body and so you wrapped your legs around his hips and crossed your ankles, trying to keep your body from its involuntary movements and to get him as deep as possible. 

'Okay?’ his forehead rested against yours. You could see the strain of not moving in his face and feel it in the tension across his shoulders.

'Always,’ you whispered, palm against his cheek, tilting your mouth up to his, lips only millimetres apart, 'Love you.’

'Love you too. So much.’

And then he started to move and you could form no more coherent thoughts. Your entire being was focused solely on the strong slide of his body against and in and out of yours. Neither of you were going to last long after all of the teasing and touching but it was going to be fucking good. Each powerful thrust brought you closer and closer to release, each clashing connection jarred you, shunting you ever more towards the edge of the bed and stealing the breath from your lungs. He was so deep it almost hurt and somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you were looking forward to feeling that delicious ache when you moved tomorrow and seeing the raised pink blush that his beard left against your throat and collar bones, knowing that it was all his doing. 

Your hands tightened in his hair as your body prepared to be pushed over the edge and he pulled his face back from yours, looking into your eyes with intent.

'C'mon sweetheart, let go. You’ve been waiting for this all night.’

You arched against him, the motion ever so slightly changing the angle of his thrusts into your body, and your legs tightened around his hips. You were both breathless, clamouring for that final rush, every muscle in both of your bodies clutching to the shreds of control to make this final stage as blindingly explosive as possible. 

'Chris, I’m gonna-’

'I know baby, just give in.’

And he gave you two or three (you just couldn’t keep count) more incredible thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in. You toppled over, unravelling in his arms, your body taut as you attempted to truly feel every crashing wave, determined not to close your eyes, wanting to see him as he’d seen you: falling into oblivion, helpless to the electric surge firing between you. 

'Don’t stop,’ you warned him. Each continued roll of his hips ignited a shuddering aftershock through your nerves and you wanted more and more.

'Wasn’t planning on it,’ the tightness in his voice gave him away. He was almost there, letting himself lose it now he was certain that you were taken care of. 

Your fingertips grazed his sides, exploring the peaks and troughs of his ribs as you met each one of this thrusts, helping him along as much as you could, your body burning inside and out.

'Just let go. You won’t hurt me. Do whatever you need to. Use my body. It’s yours anyway.’

'Fuck-’ he cursed, sweat beading on his forehead and he shifted his weight to one forearm, using his now free arm to wrap under your arched back, pulling you up to him even more tightly. The new angle and leverage allowed him to go faster, harder, deeper, even though you hadn’t thought it possible. You were immobilised and helpless and all you could do was hold either side of his face, stroking your thumbs along his cheekbones whispering that you were his as he drove into you over and over again. Although you wanted to watch him come undone above you, part of you wanted this to never stop, you just wanted to freeze time and feel the friction and intensity between you forever. But you saw that unmistakable shift in his expression, the darkening of his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw and you knew he was done. 

'There it is. Don’t stop, I want to feel it all when you come inside me,’ you coaxed him to the end of his exertion.

Chris let out a low growl in response and his mouth collided with yours as his release hit. Your body fell to the mattress as his supporting arm gave out under him and you were pinned beneath his heavy, wonderful weight, your legs refusing to let go of his waist. His rhythm lost, he pumped shallowly, barely pulling out at all before shifting forwards again as he rode out his orgasm, milking every last drop of himself to leave inside you. You kissed him through it all, marvelling that such a reaction to you was still possible, even after all this time.  
  
***

Chris loved it when she came home after being out with her friends. Every so often, her group would arrange a girl’s night and she’d get all dressed up, do her eyeliner in that way that made her look like a 1950s Hollywood seductress, strap on her highest heels, and it would take every ounce of self control he had to not pin her to the wall and start a night of pleasure much earlier than intended. 

This night had been no different. His mouth had gone dry when she’d twirled in front of him. She always looked beautiful, she was always sexy, but there was something about these kind of nights that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the anticipation, knowing that in a few hours, she’d be home. A little tipsy, of course, and, having imagined his body pressed against hers as she danced, a little frisky. And that was always an exciting prospect. 

So he forced himself into a work state while she was gone to keep those feelings of anticipation from getting too intense. He wanted to be ready and waiting. The fact that he knew full well how much she liked it when he wore his glasses was merely an added bonus. And that he chose to work off the bed instead of from his desk? Purely for comfort reasons, that’s all. 

Sure enough, a few hours later, she appeared in the doorway: a little clumsy (from the cocktails, he imagined) but definitely watching him with interest. He thought he’d known then how the night was going to continue, but she’d surprised him with her imaginings. It had been beyond intimate, her using his own hands to pleasure herself, trusting him completely to keep her upright while she did so. 

And now here he was, middle of the night, drinking in this glorious, naked woman and watching her sleep off the alcohol and the physical exhaustion of their love making, wondering how he got to be so damned lucky. 

She’d ache tomorrow, and he’d already planned to take a hot bath with her. But for now, he wondered if she’d mind being woken up by his tongue on her clit. As he carefully shifted down the bed, she stirred from sleep and, although drowsy, instinctively sought out his form with her eyes. Realising after a second where he was heading, she did nothing but smile lazily and he decided that no, she wouldn’t mind at all.


	2. At Some Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later in the relationship.

_“Does that mean Chris wants to be a daddy?”_

_‘Chris does want to be a daddy at some point.’_

You watched your boyfriend reply through your television screen, a smile on his face, for what felt like the twentieth time. 

Rewind. Play. 

‘Chris does want to be a daddy at some point,’ he replied in, unsurprisingly, the same way each and every time you rewound and replayed his response. 

You, of course, knew why this particular response was of such interest to you and why it made your stomach flip each time you heard it. But Chris didn’t. Yet. And that was the issue playing over and over in your mind, and each replay of his response to that particular question sent a wave of uncertainty through you. _At some point_. Not _now_. Not _as soon as humanly possible_. Not _right away_. Just _at some point_. 

Chris had very gracefully dodged most of the questions pertaining to your relationship, for which you were thankful, but he’d been unusually candid with the children and family questions, and that in itself had all kinds of queries rearing their heads in your mind. 

It wasn’t even as though you hadn’t discussed children, because you had, several times. It was a foregone conclusion by now - whenever you mentioned the future, it was accepted that marriage and kids were a part of it. But here he was, with his _at some point_ response and here you were, very much knocked up in the _now_. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t worry you at least a little. Damn antibiotics interfering with your contraception. Damn Chris surprising you on Valentine’s Day and making you forget you were on the damn medication. Double, triple, quadruple damn! But there was nothing for it but to wait for him to come home, because if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that this was not a conversation for FaceTime.

***

After a few days of Chris being away on the press tour and you sneakily keeping up with it all via texts from him and some non-company policy use of the internet at work, you decided that you were going to have to ask him to come home in between finishing up the tour in New York and moving out to Atlanta to start filming Infinity War. You’d never asked him to do this kind of thing before and already felt beyond selfish as you speed dialled him, your fingers trembling. You knew it would mess up his schedule but he needed to know before Atlanta. You’d checked your respective calendars and at best it could be weeks, at worst months, before you actually managed to be in the same room together again. 

‘Hey there sweetheart, how’s work today? Hellish without me to go home to, I imagine,’ you could hear the smile in his voice and you ached for him.

‘As always,’ you tried to perk your voice up but it didn’t come out the way you’d envisaged it in your head and Chris picked up on your subdued tone instantly and spoke before you had a chance to ask him how his day was going. 

‘Hey now, what’s up? Is everything okay there?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine, Dodger’s fine, everything’s fine.’

‘That’s an awful lot of fine. Out with it baby, what’s wrong?’

You took a deep breath, ‘Look, I know you’re really crazy busy and you know I wouldn’t ask just on a whim, but I just don’t think I can wait until I can fly out to Atlanta-’

'What do you mean? What can’t you wait for?’

'Chris, is there any chance you could get back here between New York and Atlanta? Just for a day or two at least.’

His tone, when he replied, was perplexed and you could tell there were probably a million questions running through his mind. You could also tell he was mentally trying to work out his schedule, to see what he could do, 'Sweetheart, I -’

Your words came out all in a panicked rush, 'I know, I know, I feel terrible for asking. I’m so sorry. It’s just, I need to see you and talk to you and I don’t know when else we could be together that’s not weeks and weeks from now.’ 

'Baby, calm down. Don’t apologise at all. I’m getting Josh on the case right now,’ there was a pause in his words to you and then you heard his voice at a distance, clearly telling his assistant what he needed. After a few seconds, he was back, 'Okay, it’s getting sorted, there’s a tiny bit of wiggle room if I can finish up here in good time in the next couple of days, so don’t worry about it at all. But now, tell me if you’re actually okay, because I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to get a bit worried here.’

'No, no, I’m fine honestly, it’s nothing to get stressed over. I just… I need to talk to you and I think we need to be in the same room for it. It’s just not one for over the phone, you know.’

It was silent for a few moments at his end and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and unsure, 'You’re not breaking up with me, are you?’ 

'What?!’ you half-laughed, 'No, of course not, doofus. Honestly, I’m good, we’re good. You’ll just… you’ll want to be here for this conversation.’

'I can’t say that makes me feel much calmer but at least I know I’ll still have a girlfriend when I get to LA. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You’re healthy? Dodger’s not been run over?’ he clearly couldn’t help but imagine a whole host of possible and terrible scenarios.

'I swear to you Chris, I’m not going anywhere, and Dodger is sat right here next to me, perfectly alive and intact. All will become clear when you’re home, all right? I’m sorry to fuck your schedule up.’

'Stop being sorry, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You need me, I’m there: that’s the way it needs to work with us. Just, look after yourself and I’ll see you in a couple days, okay?’

'Yes boss, see you in a few days. Let me know if you need picking up from the airport.’

'Will do. Love you.’

'Love you too.’

***

The remaining days were going horrendously slowly. Chris kept himself reassured by sending her selfies and cute messages when he saw things that reminded him of her. The assurance came in her continued replies. He knew she said that there was nothing to worry about but she’d never asked him to come home when he was working before so he knew her motivation must have been important, whatever it was. He couldn’t help but be concerned.

He kept up his usual public persona for the press and television appearances, and for Mckenna - this whole circus was incredibly exciting for her and she didn’t need to be affected by his pensive mood - but God, he wished the minutes would go by even just a little faster. He always actively tried to be in the present and appreciate everything around him, but knowing his girlfriend needed him when there were almost three thousand miles between them completely trumped all of his live-in-the-present efforts. 

But finally, finally it was time to say his goodbyes to all the people that had been his close knit team for the last few weeks and leave New York. Only one plane journey now stood between him and whatever time-sensitive, non-phone appropriate, mystery conversation she needed to have with him and he could get some answers, hopefully laying his worries to rest.

He checked in with less time than he would have usually liked to have spare and headed straight to the gate, typing out a text as he went:

**Boarding in thirty minutes so will be with you soon. Got a ride from LAX, don’t worry. Can’t wait to see you, love you.**

The reply was almost immediate and uncharacteristically short, full of all the things she wasn’t saying.

**See you soon, love you.**

Once in his seat, Chris jammed on his headphones, pulled his cap down over his eyes and tried to sleep, praying the flight would be quick and smooth.

***

You’d been to work, been to the market for groceries and now you were laying atop the bed you shared with Chris, obsessively checking the LAX arrivals on your phone, so you knew when his flight had landed on time. You also knew you now had around forty five minutes to an hour to calm the fuck down and figure out what you were going to say. 

_At some point._  
At some point.  
At some point.

Part of you wanted to choke him with those ridiculously non-committal words, even though the rational side of you knew that it was vague response precisely because it was an interview and he never liked to give much about his personal life away. 

_Hey baby, how was your flight? By the way, I’m pregnant so that 'at some point’ response better have been an interviewer friendly response and not your actual true feelings._

Would that do? Or maybe:

_At some point?? At some point?? No, Christopher, fucking now is what’s actually happening._

You flung your limbs about on the mattress in a mixture of irritation and anxiety, annoyed that you were in this position and that you couldn’t just be happy about it. Because you were! You had a teeny tiny little bean of a human growing inside you that was fifty per cent you and fifty per cent Chris, and no matter what happened elsewhere in your life, you were going to be a mother. Thinking about that simple fact, you shook out your tense limbs and forced yourself into a state of calm, breathing deeply and, with your eyes closed, focusing all your energy on that little spark of life just beginning to develop. Dodger soon joined you, calmed by your stillness, and laid his head on top of your stomach. 

His gentleness surprised you given that he was generally a fairly boisterous and active two year old dog, and when you tilted your head up to look at him, he was in full protection mode, shielding your onboard cargo in the best way he knew how. 

'Oh Dodger,’ you smoothed the fur on top of his head with your fingertips, 'Everything’s going to be different now, isn’t it?’

***

Up until the moment Chris stepped through his front door, he had thought he didn’t know what to expect when he arrived home. But upon arriving home to find that there weren’t actually any bags packed by the front door and that both the love of his life and his dog were clearly living and breathing in front of him, standing on their own feet, he realised he’d been subconsciously expecting every single worst case scenario possible, despite all the assurances to the contrary. 

He was still, he found, a little wary as he let his bag fall to the floor and accepted Dodger’s greeting. So far so good, everything seemed normal, except that Dodger was maybe a tad quieter than usual and Chris had yet to receive his girlfriend’s usual enthusiastic welcome. She was stood just a few paces away from him in the hall, unsure and nervous with one hand gripped around the elbow of her opposite arm. 

Chris held out a hand to her, beckoning, 'Come here, baby.’

She did, thankfully, reciprocate and placed her hand in his, allowing herself to be pulled into his warm embrace. No matter what the reasons were for needing to come home, before he did anything else he just needed to take her in. It had been weeks. She smelled of strawberries and vanilla and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent from her hair, before planting a kiss on the sensitive skin under her ear lobe. He gently cupped her head on either side and tilted her head to his.

'Hello,’ he said in delayed greeting.

'Hi,’ she replied, a small smile ghosting her lips before pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss him, 'How was your flight?’

'Long,’ he still held her head carefully in his hands, as though he was handling a precious artefact, tracing small paths on her cheekbones with his thumbs. 

'Shall I get some dinner started?’ 

'No,’ was his soft but definitive reply. 

'Okay.’

He noticed that her gaze kept darting away from his, fractionally and only for a second, but it was enough to be noticeable. He knew she’d probably make to pull away before too long.

'Spill it sweetheart, what’s got you so worked up?’ He carefully watched for changes in her expression but he couldn’t keep track of the emotions flitting across her face. All he was sure of were those big eyes, glistening with uncertainty. 

She took an inward breath and almost began to speak, her bottom lip quivering, but the words halted before she could get them out. It was then she began to pull away from him.

'Just let me - I need to get something from upstairs.’ 

Chris released her reluctantly, huffing out a breath in impatience, 'Babe, give me a break, I’ve been on tenterhooks for days now and I’ve been so worried about what I was coming home to. Out with it already!’

But she’d already darted half way up the stairs.

'Just one second!’ her voice drifted from the first floor. He heard her light footsteps across the landing then disappear as she entered one of the upstairs rooms. Within thirty seconds she was descending the stairs again, both hands behind her back.

***

'I’m going to need you to close your eyes and hold out a hand,’ you told him as you approached.

He was instantly confused and you knew you were pushing him close to the edge of his patience, 'What? Why-’

'Just do it, trust me.’

You had decided earlier, as you lay in your state of enforced calmness with Dodger curled around you, that you didn’t have to tell Chris the news at all, that you could simply show him and hope that his reaction was a good one. 

And now, here you were, the moment of truth, approaching your unfairly handsome boyfriend with his eyes obediently closed tight and a hand outstretched, palm facing the ceiling. 

'No peeking until I say,’ you crept towards him, your heart pounding and your breath stuck in your throat. Time seemed to stand still around you. Even Dodger was a statue, watching the two of you intently. You were focused on Chris’ even breathing (he was keeping control of it on purpose, you knew) and as your gaze swept over his face, you took a moment to notice, for the millionth time, the feathering of his dark, thick eyelashes, those high cheekbones, the straight nose and plump lower lip. But this time, for the first time, you were free to wonder which of those features that you loved so much would be inherited by your child.

Tenderly, you laid the slim white stick in his hand and quickly stepped back a few paces, as though you’d just lit a firework.

After pausing for a beat just to steel yourself, you gave your instruction, 'Right, you can open your eyes now.’

And you braced yourself for impact.

***

Chris opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust again to the change in light, and he saw her standing more than an arm’s length away, looking expectant and uncertain. 

He instantly turned his focus to the object she had placed in his hand, knowing that whatever it was would, hopefully, answer all the questions he had pinging around his head.

And what he saw there made his world stop.

A small, white plastic stick with a tiny window that definitely had 'Pregnant’ displayed in it. Pregnant. He felt like he had no words and too many all at once, but either way nothing was coming out of his mouth. He stared at it before raising his hand to hold it closer and make sure he wasn’t seeing things. _Pregnant._

'Chris? Please say something,’ a quiet plead from the woman he loved beyond everything, the woman who was going to make him a _father_. 

He flickered his gaze to her and pointed at the stick, 'This - _pregnant_?’

'Yep, pregnant. Knocked up. Bun in the oven. Up the duff,’ she was humouring him and his less than eloquent reaction, he knew. 

He looked back down at that little word in that little window.

'You?’

She barked out a nervous laugh, 'No, Chris, it’s Dodger,’ a good natured roll of the eyes, 'Of course it’s me! I think we’ve got a Valentine’s baby on our hands. Can you at least give me some indication of how you feel about this? Because I’m not getting a lot and I was nervous enough already.’

Chris still hadn’t looked up so she walked the gap between them, closing her hand around his and folding his fist around the test stick, 'Look, I know this is a big shock, and I’ve just sprung this on you now when I’ve had a few days to get used to the idea, but we have always talked about kids, haven’t we? It’s not like this baby is unwanted, a surprise though he or she may be. I know this is a bit sooner than 'at some point’ like you said in that interview and I know it’s super bad timing with filming starting up but we’ll figure it all out. We’ve always figured things out before. And it might be okay, you’ll be filming until September, the baby will be due October, and you won’t be doing the press tour until next year so I think it will all work out, right? Chris?’

***

She was rambling, which meant she was really, really nervous and he, like the douchebag he was, was just standing there, frozen, a useless lump doing nothing to give her any indication as to his thoughts. All she really needed, and had needed for days now, was some reassurance that he was with her in this. And he was. One hundred and fifty percent. 

Finally, he found some vocabulary and came back to the present. 

'Sweetheart… I’m just - I’m actually going to be a dad, Jesus Christ, this is just - it’s incredible,’ he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide with realisation as a disbelieving peal of laughter escaped him. He cupped her chin reverently as he brought his lips to meet hers, showing her all the excitement and joy and adoration and gratitude that he felt pouring out of him, 'I don’t know what I expected when you called saying you needed me to come home, but it certainly wasn’t anything as amazing as this. Are you happy? I think I’m miles and miles beyond happy now!’

'Well, I am now,’ she beamed up at him.

'What do you mean?’ his smile faded slightly as his brow furrowed.

'Well, you know, it’s not like we were _trying_ or anything and I saw that interview you did the other day when you were asked about having kids and you said “at some point.” God, I’ve been playing that line over and over in my head,’ she admitted, 'I thought you were going to freak out.’

He pulled his fist, still wrapped around the stick, out of her hand and encased her in his arms, crushing her to his chest, 'Oh sweetheart, you know I’m purposefully vague about stuff like that in them. I never want our lives to be spilled across the magazines and the internet. Can you imagine if I’d turned around and said 'yes, as soon as possible please’? You’d have been under baby bump scrutiny with immediate effect.’

He pulled back slightly to look at her square in the face, wanting her to believe every single thing he was about to say, 'Trust me when I say that no one, anywhere in the world, is as happy as I am right now, okay?’

She nodded in reply, tears welling in her eyes, reflecting the light from the room.

'What’s wrong?’ he asked, softly swiping a thumb across her lower lid, catching the droplets of moisture as they escaped, 'There’s no need to cry. This is what you want, right?’

She nodded sharply to dismiss any notion that she might anything less than thrilled to be pregnant, 'I’m just so relieved. I can’t believe how much I was hoping for this moment to go exactly as it just has.’ 

'I’m sorry my interview made you worry. But honestly, this is…just everything I’ve ever wanted. Have you told your parents yet? My parents?’

'No, of course not. Obviously you needed to know before anyone else.’

'Shall we call them all now?’ 

***

Chris clearly wanted to be able to share his happy news as quickly as possible but you wanted to bask in this moment, just the two of you, for a little longer. You wanted to have a nice dinner together. You wanted Chris to fire up the patio grill while you made salad to go with the steaks you’d seen at the market earlier and had placed in the cart when you’d had a sudden and irrepressible craving for it. You wanted to curl up under a blanket with him on the garden sofa, Dodger at your feet, and watch the sun set behind the hills, making the city lights twinkle below you. You wanted to listen to the distant rush of traffic and the aeroplanes on their gradual gradients up and down out of the sky. You wanted to just be two people, young and in love, relishing this life-changing moment in quietness together while the rest of the world rushed on, unaware of your joy and your contentment. 

So rather than answer Chris’ question with an affirmative, you simply shrugged and replied, 'At some point.’


	3. The Dogs Aren't Allowed Upstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dodger has canine siblings by the time this snapshot appears in the timeline.

Chris comes home to an incredibly quiet house. A none-too-lengthy search later finds you, and the dogs, in the bedroom. All of you are fast asleep in or around the bed and, although the dogs aren’t supposed to be in the bedroom, they’ve not been able to leave you alone recently and he can clearly see that you gave in today. Probably through exhaustion, as you had been a lot lately, unsurprisingly. Leaning against the doorframe, he takes in the scene before him and can’t help but smile. The dogs just want to protect you in your current state and he can’t blame them. He snaps a quick picture on his phone and decides he’ll ask you later if it’s time to make an announcement to the world. He knows you’ll ask if he’s sure, that social media announcements aren’t usually his style, but he kind of really, definitely, publicly wants to own this one. 

_Our canine family members aren’t supposed to go upstairs but I can’t blame them for just wanting to protect something very important to us all #babyevans #arrivingsoon_


	4. His Girls (Episode 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking an angsty turn, sorry! Be warned that the following deals with postpartum depression.

It had been a phone call from his mother that had been the catalyst for his unscheduled return home. A voicemail to be exact. He knew that leaving had been the wrong thing to do in the first place. He’d known since he’d first, very reluctantly, agreed to do the (‘so quick, you’ll be back home before you know it’) press tour. He’d squeezed in a smaller movie after Infinity War finishing up and the release date combined with Annie being two weeks late in making her arrival meant that she was only four weeks old when Chris had to leave for promo. It felt like all he’d done was answer questions about his newly expanded family, when all he wanted was to be back home in LA with them. He knew it had been too soon but you’d insisted that you would both be fine, you would FaceTime every day and that Chris couldn’t jeopardise his career and professional standing with the studio by backing out of the promotional tour. He could have kicked himself as he listened to the voice message in between interviews.

‘Hey sweetheart,’ his mother’s soft voice had that tone that told him she knew she was trying not to worry him but also that she knew her efforts would be futile, ‘I hope the tour’s going well. Sorry I couldn’t catch you in person. As you know, I’ve been in LA the last couple of days and I’m… I’m worried about her, Chris. I can’t say what it is exactly but she seemed almost too bright and breezy, which I know sounds stupid but, it’s like, it’s like I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me, like she was putting on an act. She didn’t seem to actually want to have much to do with the baby. I don’t know sweetheart, something just isn’t right. Was she like this before you left? Give me a call when you can, preferably before you go rushing back home on the first flight out.’

Since the voicemail, he’d discovered that you’d hired a nanny (without telling him in any of your phone calls) and that you’d gone back to work, leaving your six week old daughter with an almost stranger. For all he’d known in your long distance communication, you and the baby were doing great. You sounded like nothing but a doting, excited, happy new mother over the phone and screen. He shouldn’t have ignored that niggling feeling he had that told him he was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Knowing what he now knew, he’d tried to subtly fish for information in his phone calls to you but you were giving nothing away and that in itself convinced him that going home was the only option. Clearly, he was needed somewhere more important than the press tour. Luckily, there was a big enough ensemble cast that his absence could be glossed over. 

And that was how he found himself, at nine pm on a Friday letting himself into his own house after a long ass flight, made only longer by his concerns, to find a woman that was definitely not his wife taking care of his child and, apparently, living in his home. A few awkward questions later, Chris had ascertained that Helen was, in fact, a live-in nanny, with decent credentials, he was reassured to see, and that you were out with friends, and had been out most nights since Helen had started her employment, whether for work or leisure. 

Eventually, Helen had been given the night off to retire to her rooms and Chris had gone straight to his baby girl’s nursery, watching the calm rise and fall of her chest and listening to her quiet snuffles as she breathed. She was perfect and his heart swelled every time he looked at her. His little angel. He ever-so-gently ran his index finger down her rounded rosy cheek, before kissing his fingertips and pressing them softly against the downy fair hair on the crown of her head.

‘Hi there, baby girl. I’ve missed you so much, Annie. I’m not sure what’s been going on yet but daddy’s home now and we’ll figure it all out, don’t worry.’ 

He was still in the clothes he had been wearing for the best part of two days, and they smelled like airplane, but he didn’t care. He slumped wearily in the plush armchair in the nursery, propping one elbow on the arm rest, leaning his head in his hand and stretching his legs out in front of him. He looked around at the room in the soft glowing lamp light. You’d decorated once you’d gone in for the twenty week scan and found out that you would be adding another female Evans to the pack and you’d picked out colours at the DIY store together. Chris had insisted on doing it all himself, foregoing an interior decorator. 

‘I want to do it,’ he’d argued when you’d tried to tell him he didn’t have to, ‘I want to paint the walls and build the flat pack furniture and put the shelves up for my little girl.’

Your eyes had welled. Who were you to argue with him about that? You’d blamed your tearful outburst on the hormones wreaking havoc with your emotions but really it was just that you couldn’t believe how fucking amazing Chris was going to be as a father and how lucky you were to have him.

So, you had decorated the nursery together, choosing soft pastel shades, the paint tins looking like sugared almonds the day you’d laid the tarps to protect the carpet and prised open the lids with a dinner knife. Chris had constructed the furniture, liked he’d said he would, relishing in the days at home when he could get out the power tools and just build, having made something at the end of the day that was going to make his child’s life just a little bit more comfortable. You’d taken on some of the less labour intensive jobs, given your pregnant state, like framing prints and hanging them in just the right places around the room, selecting ornaments and cuddly toys to adorn the neat white shelves Chris had fixed to the wall, and choosing the soft furnishings for the room, expecting that you’d both be spending a lot of time in here in the future. 

Chris looked at all of the things in the room, all the evidence of your mutual enthusiasm for the arrival of your first baby, and the love that you both already had for the life growing inside you. Chris couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to all of that, where it had all gone. He had to admit that he was scared, desperately so, of the possibility that you had realised you didn’t actually want to be a mother. 

***

Chris awoke with a start when Annie cried out. His neck was stiff from where he’d fallen asleep in the armchair and he glanced at his watch as he stood. Midnight. He wondered idly if you’d returned home yet as he approached Annie in her crib. Perhaps not, since he hadn’t woken before now. 

‘Oh Annie, don’t cry sweetheart. I bet you’re hungry now, aren’t you? Let’s go and get you some milk.’

As much as he hated to hear her distress, he was glad that he could now pick her up and hold her to him for a real reunion. She lay marshmallow soft in his arms and he held her up so that he could drop a kiss on her forehead and breathe in that sweet talc scent before carrying her downstairs to the kitchen. Everywhere was quiet and dark and he had to flick lights on one by one as he moved slowly through the house, cuddling Annie to try and quieten her cries. Helen, he supposed, must have gone to sleep. He went to the kitchen via the family room, pulling the moses basket along behind him. He flicked the kettle on and then lay his angel in her basket while he set about preparing her milk. After opening the fridge to find no expressed milk, Chris let out a deep sigh and a curse under his breath, and went to the cupboard for the formula. But, he thought afterwards, he supposed he should be glad that you weren’t still breast feeding given that you were out most nights, apparently getting trashed. At least you had done that much, whether it was intentional or not.

A short while later, Annie was fed, changed and wriggling happily in Chris’ arms as he cooed and fussed over her, rocking her gently while he paced slowly up and down the family room. There was still no sign of anyone else and the house seemed oddly silent and huge. 

‘Come on little Annie, it’s time to go back to sleep or you’ll be tired tomorrow. Will a song help?’ 

Just as he’d started on his very own lullaby version of a chart song he’d heard everywhere over the last couple of weeks, he heard the key turn in the lock of the front door. Feeling oddly anxious and trying to keep the frustration that had been building since he’d arrived home under control, he continued pacing his path in the family room, waiting for you to realise that he was there. 

You must have heard him singing softly because you appeared at the door to the family room, gripping on the door frame and swinging around it, giggling.

'Chris! You’re home! Look at you all gorgeous and sexy! Missed me that much huh?’ Your words were slurred and loud and at odds with the calmness and quietness of the house. Chris couldn’t help but notice you hadn’t even acknowledged Annie. You were dressed in a short dress and strappy killer heels, smoky black lining your eyes and your hair loose and glossy and tousled in that way he’d always liked. In fact, it wasn’t so very long ago that you returning home like this would have resulted in a long night of the most amazing sex and while he knew that you were drop dead gorgeous as always, seeing you like this, on this night, only made all that building irritation want to burst from him. Control, Chris, control.

'Something like that. Just keep it down, Annie’s almost asleep.’ His voice was steady, for which he was grateful, but he didn’t look you in the eye. 

You’d approached him with that slow walk that you knew accentuated those long legs and made your hips sway. You snaked a hand along his shoulders and wrapping a hand lightly around his neck and tugging him towards you to whisper in his ear.

'Well, I’m going to go and get out of this dress and I’ll see you upstairs for a real welcome home in a little while, okay?’

Chris didn’t respond but you didn’t seem to notice as you sashayed out of the room and disappeared upstairs. Chris purposefully didn’t watch you leave, but focused on the small bundle in his arms, who seemingly hadn’t been affected by her mother’s entrance and whose eyes were now drifting closed as she lost her fight against sleep. Chris felt the heat of frustration and anger in his face, mixed with, he hated to admit, a twinge of arousal. Damn you for showing up in that dress. He knew you, had known and loved you for years. You’d done and been through so much together: bought a house together, travelled the world together, brought a child into the world together but at this moment, he felt he didn’t know you at all. You had completely ignored your daughter, as though she didn’t even exist. 

As Chris climbed the stairs, careful not to let his precious girl feel his footsteps, he was sure of exactly two things: one, he needed to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible for the sake of his family and two, there was no way he was getting into that bed next to you tonight.


	5. His Girls (Episode 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following deals with issues of postpartum depression.

***

After settling Annie in her crib, Chris had checked on you and had found you starfish style on the bed, still wearing your dress with your heels on and your make up, but completely passed out on your back on top of the comforter. He had hoped that would be the case. His mind had been overflowing with questions when you stumbled into the family room but he also knew that it wasn’t the time to be starting something that was potentially going to lead to an argument. He’d wanted to gauge your reaction to him, and to Annie, and he’d been left feeling more than a little confused.

Approaching you, his socked footsteps muted by the thick carpet, he noticed how in sleep he felt like you were more the woman he knew. More vulnerable maybe, and with the mask gone, your brow was furrowed. Clearly, even the alcohol wasn’t dulling whatever was bothering you now that you were out cold.

‘What’s going on with you, baby girl?’ He whispered to himself defeatedly, feeling more than a little hopeless and powerless now that he had seen your strange demeanour with his own eyes. Chris realised that he’d half-hoped his mom had got it all wrong, but he too had felt like he was stood in a room with a stranger.

Nevertheless, he set about making you as comfortable as he could without disturbing you from sleep, starting with your feet. He undid the thin ankle straps of your shoes and slipped them off, massaging your soles slightly to stretch out your toes and stop the muscles from cramping after being at such a high gradient all evening before standing them up in a pair in the empty space on your side of the closet. Next was your jewellery, carefully and methodically he removed your bracelets, necklace and earrings, all of them pieces that he’d given you over the years either bought for special occasions or just because. Like the shoes, Chris returned the jewellery back to its place of belonging, finding some strange comfort in being able to do this, knowing that not everything in his life or his home was now a mystery to him. 

Having decided that your dress could stay where it was as its loose swing design and thin material weren’t going to cause you too many problems, he retrieved the thickest, softest blanket he could find from the trunk at the end of the bed. Pulling it over you from your feet, he covered you up, only stilling his movements when you shifted towards him, rolling on to your side and pulling your knees up, curling inwardly on yourself. Confident that you were still fast asleep, he tucked the blanket around your form and slowly sank down to perch on the mattress next to you, in the cove you had created with your legs, running his fingers lightly over your forehead and stroking your hair out across the pillow. 

There had always been so much love between you. He adored you, and you him, of that he had always been sure. He remembered how nervous you had been to tell him that you were pregnant and couldn’t help but wonder now if those nerves were less to do with telling him and more about having a baby in general. But if that was the case, you’d never let on during your pregnancy. Chris sat, wracking his memories of the last nine months, trying to find something that he might have simply overlooked at the time but that would easily explain all of this strangeness away. He came up empty.

Leaning forward slowly, he pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek and whispered against your skin, ‘Hi sweetheart - you’re right, I have missed you. I always have done and I always will, because I love you, you know I do, more than I can put into words. But this time I’ve come home and I still miss you, because I’ve not actually seen you yet. I don’t know what’s happened in the two weeks I’ve been gone, so you’re going to have to help me out a little here, okay?’

After sitting in silence for a few more moments, replaying the heartbreaking moment he watched the mother of his child not even acknowledge her own daughter and wondering how he was going to fix this, he rose wearily and padded to the bathroom for some painkillers and a glass of water before leaving them on the nightstand next to you, figuring you would need them in the morning. 

Ensuring he had the monitor, he descended the stairs and moved through the house, checking the doors and windows were locked before letting Dodger out of the utility, who was excited to finally be reunited with his human. 

‘Sorry bud, had some things I needed to take care of. You’ve been so patient, good boy.’

Chris ruffled his dog’s fur and rubbed his belly before indicating for him to follow him upstairs. In the nursery, Chris settled in the armchair again, Dodger curled up at his feet, calmed by the quiet breathing of his daughter. Glancing at his watch, it was still only half one in the morning, meaning it was half four in Boston and his mother would definitely be asleep. He’d call her in the morning and let her know he was back in LA to sort everything out. And he would. He had to, or he’d be failing as a father and as a partner. 

***

For the second time, Chris awoke to cries. His eyes shot open to find Dodger startled from sleep and staring at the crib, his posture defensive, shortly followed by the door flying open and Helen scurrying into the room. Seeing Chris half out of his chair, she stopped and immediately apologised.

‘Sorry, Mr Evans, I didn’t realise… do you want me to take her?’ she gestured towards the crib with her head. She was dressed for the day so must have been up and about for a short while at least.

‘Don’t worry Helen, I must have fallen asleep here last night. Please, call me Chris. I’ll see to Annie this morning, it’s nice to spend some time with her. Has it just been you around this morning?’

Helen nodded and made to back out of the room the way she came, 'I’ll go and make a start on prepping the milk.’

'Thanks Helen.’

Despite his reservations when his mom had told him about the hiring of a nanny, on first impressions he thought that Helen seemed a good choice. She was probably in her late fifties, seemed polite and efficient and like she knew what she was doing. He wondered idly if she had family of her own; she did have a sort of maternal air about her. She kind of reminded him of your mom, and maybe that’s why you had employed her. He also reminded himself to check that you’d had her sign an NDA, especially with everything that was going on at the moment. The last thing any of you needed was this all leaking to the press via an 'undisclosed source’. But, he mused wryly, it seemed unlikely that undisclosed sources were needed when you were out every night anyway. Please, please let you have been going to discrete places. The tabloids and magazines would not be friendly to a celebrity mom of a six week old being spotted out drinking and clubbing every night. Maybe it was time to get PR involved and do some preemptive damage limitation - as much as could be done anyway. 

'Let’s get you fed and ready for the day, Miss Evans. It’s going to be a busy one.’

***

Chris had tried, over the preparations for Annie’s breakfast, to pump Helen for information, but there seemed to be a lot she wasn’t saying. That was a good sign of her ability to be discrete at least. 

'She’s… done what she can. She has been very busy, with her work and the events she has to attend for networking, so she’s not had a lot of time really.’

'I believe you met my mother a few days ago?’

'Yes, Lisa - I hope you don’t mind, she told me to call her that - stayed for four days. She really dotes on little Annie, doesn’t she?’

Chris smiled at that, 'Yeah, that’s my mom. All these grandchildren but each one is just as special as the first for her. How were things while my mom was around?’

'Easier… I think. But I could tell that Lisa found it all a bit strange. She tried to get information out of me too,’ a knowing grin brightened Helen’s features, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, 'You’re very similar. Now, you should know I’m not in the habit of gossiping or talking behind someone’s back, especially when the topic of conversation is a new mother, but do understand that however you think she should be behaving at the moment, she is trying her very best. That 'best’ might only be acknowledging her baby and holding her a couple of times a day, but if she’s struggling already, then those couple of times will be the hardest thing she does in every twenty four hour period.’ 

Chris looked down at the cherubic bundle in his arms and couldn’t imagine having to force himself to hold her. He was at loss to imagine how this had happened - he’d had four weeks with both his girls before he’d had to leave and you’d seemed such a natural. The birth had been a little traumatic and drawn out but you’d both come through, safe and sound and had settled, seemingly, into a good routine. How things could have changed so dramatically in such a short space of time, Chris had no idea. 

'Do _you_ think there’s something wrong with her?’ Chris asked, somewhat reluctant to hear the answer.

Helen was silent for a moment, possible responses flashing across her face, thinking about how to respond to one of her employers who she had only met for the first time last night, and who was clearly frightened by what he had come home to. Except for the fact he was cradling his daughter, Helen thought he looked just like a scared little boy, not knowing how to proceed or what to do for the best, just trying to keep it together. 

'I think… she’s a little overwhelmed and unsure about the mother version of herself. It’s really hard, a few weeks in, when the visitors have stopped, daddy goes back to work and the shock and adrenaline is wearing off, and you realise there’s no going back now, that you’re in charge of this tiny little life. I think she’s going to need you to be as patient and as understanding as you can be, even though you must be confused and frustrated.’

Chris inclined his head in acknowledgement.

'I thought everything was perfect. We’re a family, everything we’ve ever wanted, how can it not be perfect? I’d never felt happier, until I heard from my mom.’

'Perfection is hard thing to live up to, in my experience. Striving for perfection in all things can often do more harm than good. No parent is perfect, Chris.’

'You think she feels like I’ve put her under too much pressure?’

'I don’t know her, or you, well enough to say, but I’d be willing to bet everything I have that she’s putting herself under too pressure, with or without your contribution, as most new moms do. Everyone thinks you’re supposed to be the most happy, glowing, joy-filled person on earth when in reality, you’re running on two hours of sleep, can’t take a shower, can’t clean your house, are scared to go outside, and are basically used as a milk machine. And you’re supposed to instantly feel this incredible bond with the one reason for all of this. It’s a lot to take in.’

'But… look at this baby. She’s so beautiful and innocent. I look at her and feel nothing but love and affection. I just want to hold her all the time. I’d die for her, I’m pretty sure.’

Helen let out a short laugh at that, 'I know, but you men get it fairly easy. Your bodies don’t change beyond all recognition, your hormones don’t turn you into an emotional wreck, you didn’t have to push that little cutie out of you, and I can guarantee she didn’t feel so little when your girlfriend was squeezing her out. You get all the good stuff, and you get to go back to your normal life after a few weeks, while hers has changed forever.’

'I can’t agree with the last part. The rest I get, but my life has changed too. It won’t ever be the same. I might have gone back to my version of normal in terms of the work I was doing, but all I’m thinking about now while I’m there are my girls at home, wishing I was with them, hoping they’re okay, wondering what they’re doing without me.’

If Helen disagreed with that, she didn’t voice it, 'And you seem to have adjusted to that change very quickly and very well. It’s taking that new mother upstairs a little longer, that’s all.’

'Have you got children, Helen, if you don’t mind me asking?’

'Oh, mine are all grown up now. One lives out in New York, career girl, top of her field, and my son lives here in California with his wife and their five year old. A little boy, Jake,’ Helen spoke about them all with pride, quickly showing Chris a few snaps on her cell. They seemed like a stable, happy family and Chris hoped against hope that that was what his future looked like.

***

At around eleven am, Chris asked Helen to take Annie around the block in her stroller. He’d decided he was going to bite back his confusion and irritation and go as gently as possible with you. Clearly, you had not been adjusting to motherhood as well as you had appeared two weeks ago and Chris didn’t want to give you cause to shrink further into yourself or, worse, run.

So he crept into the bedroom, the space shrouded in darkness from the heavy curtains. You must have been dozing, rather than in a deep sleep, because your eyes flickered open as he entered and you made out the shape of him moving through the room. 

'Morning sunshine, how are you feeling?’ Chris’ quiet, gravelly voice floated to you.

'Okay-ish, I think. It was a big networking event, you know how clients get when they’ve had a few double mixers,’ you winced as little as you sat up, the pounding in your head intensifying as you moved. Chris sat down on the bed and turned towards you, taking one of your hands in his, but said nothing. 

'Thanks for the water and painkillers. I woke up about two hours ago I think and I took them then. Did you cover me up and stuff?’

'Yeah, didn’t want you to be cold. Your shoes and jewellery are all back where they belong.’

'Thanks,’ you said again, quietly, squeezing his hand slightly. 'It’s good to have you home. Why are you home by the way? You’re not due back for another two weeks.’

'I know, but I missed my girls and after speaking to my mom, I realised there were a few things you hadn’t told me in our phone conversations.’

You bristled at that, instantly on the defensive, pulling your hand out of his.

'Your mom?’ you rolled your eyes, unable to stop the reflexive action, 'She told you what a shitshow of a mother I am, I guess?’

'Hey, don’t be like that. She was worried for you, and I have to say, sweetheart, when I heard you gone back to work and hired a live-in nanny without even mentioning it to me in passing, let alone having a discussion about it, I was worried too,’ Chris kept his voice level. He almost said 'Annie’s only six weeks old’ but he didn’t want to sound accusatory, 'Why didn’t you tell me?’

'Precisely because I didn’t want you to worry. I should have known Lisa would pull something like this. Have you racing across the country because your inadequate girlfriend can’t look after your kid,’ you pulled your hand away when Chris tried to reach for it again and pulled the blanket back so you could swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, 'I thought she’d be happy to see I’d hired someone to look after the baby. Someone much more qualified than me anyhow. I’m taking a shower.’

You spat out the last couple of sentences and stomped to the bathroom. You heard Chris call out after you, more insisting that that wasn’t what he or his mom meant, but you’d shut the door and blocked him out. You switched the shower to the hottest setting, ragged your dress over your head and threw it in a scrunched ball across the bathroom, watching in irritation as it dropped to the floor harmlessly. Leaning on the counter, you looked up to reluctantly gaze at your reflection in the mirror and saw what an absolute mess you looked. 

You were pale and pinched under the make up, your dark eyeliner smudged far from where it had been applied. Your lipstick had been smeared off as you slept, leaving a lurid outline of oily colour staining your dry, cracked lips. Your eyes went downwards without your permission, forcing you to look at your swollen, uncomfortable breasts, your rounded hips and the wobbly pouch of a stomach that had once been flat and toned, crisscrossed with violent red lines.

As you looked at it all, the reminder of what you had been through, you felt the fear rising in you. The memories of giving birth came crashing upon you before you could stop them: memories of the blood, of the pain, of seeing implement after implement disappearing between your legs, of hearing the shouts and commands, of seeing strangers faces gathered around, of not being able to breathe or speak or scream, of being unable to focus on Chris’ face, of not knowing where he was, of genuinely feeling like you were going to die. You felt every single one, didn’t even try to fight them because you knew it was useless.

You simply reached over to the shower controls and turned the power up to full, the water now blasting in jets out of the shower head. You figured the noise of it against the tiles would be loud enough that Chris wouldn’t hear your heaving sobs, and hopefully the heat and the piercing jets against your back as you sat in the bottom of the shower with your arms around your knees would be enough to distract your mind from the visions. Hopefully for long enough that you could get yourself together before going out to face him again.


	6. His Girls (Episode 3)

It was Saturday and it was just you, Chris and Annie in the house. Since Chris had been back, he’d changed a few things. Helen had stayed on as nanny but he’d insisted that, for the time being at least, she should keep day time working hours, rather than living in. This also meant that she wasn’t around at the weekend. 

You had been living in what felt like constant hysteria bubbling just below the surface. Every time you saw Chris, it was an effort to keep a lid on it all and stop all the feeling spilling over. Bright smiles, breezy attitudes and as little eye contact as possible were keeping you going until you could lock yourself away in your study under the guise of having so much work to catch up on after being away for two months. 

You could see how much you were hurting Chris - his wounded expressions were evidence enough - but you also couldn’t do anything about it. Every time you were near him and the baby, it was like trying to push two matching ends of a magnet together, the fear rising in your chest and the rushing sounds of panic filling your ears. Some inexplicable force pushed you away, stopped you from getting close, in all ways. 

One look at that tiny face and everything came rushing back. Her eyes, her smell, even her tiny fingers were inextricably wrapped up with memories of pain and blood and fear. It had been easier at the beginning to force it all down, to smother it all in smiles and coos and you allowed yourself to bask in Chris’ love and pride. But then even before he’d left, you started to feel the pangs of something akin to rage. You used to be the light of his life, the sun rose and set with you and now he barely remembered to acknowledge you except in the context of you being the mother of his child. You were still a person, a woman in your own right. 

Then he’d gone and you were left alone with a tiny human that relied solely on you. Suddenly, those memories of her birth began to transform into other, darker, more hideous shapes and you were terrified every waking minute that you would hurt her, not out of compulsion, but out of your own inadequacy. By the time Lisa’s visit was due, you’d had to take action. Better to leave the baby in the care of someone with experience and qualification and keep yourself and your dark thoughts well away. 

You couldn’t let him see the extent of the mess you were, of the horrible, spiralling thoughts that would creep up on you when you were alone with the baby. Chris had always wanted to be a father and have a family. You couldn’t let him see just how much you were failing as a mother. 

So here you were, locked behind the study door, staring blankly at a computer screen and hiding from your own boyfriend and daughter. There was nothing in here to quell the visions, nothing to distract you from the sickening thoughts, but they were better with you than spilling over to Chris and the baby. As long as you could make it through the weekend and get to Monday when Helen would be back, the danger of you being alone with the baby would have passed and you could get yourself back on an even keel. Until next weekend, of course. 

But, just then, there was a soft knock at the door and you quickly pulled up a document to make it look like you were working on something. Chris’ head emerged tentatively from behind the door.

‘Hey sweetheart, I need to take a trip to the store, we’re out of some essentials. Annie’s down for her nap, she’s been fed and changed so should be okay for a little while at least. Here’s the baby monitor so you’ll know if she wakes up.’

He set the monitor gently on the desk in front of you and began to retreat from the room as you tried to form some words that didn’t sound desperate and panicked.

‘Chris… why don’t I go? Just give me a list of what we need.’

‘It’s okay babe, I know you’re really busy, that’s why I waited for Annie to fall asleep. As little disruption to you as possible. I’ll be back before you know it.’

With that he closed the door behind him before you could say anything else and as you distantly heard the front door open and close, the weight of the burden now placed on your shoulders threatened to drown you. The rushing rose in your ears as you stared unflinchingly at the green light blinking on the monitor, taunting you as you prayed no sound would crackle over it while Chris was gone. 

***

Chris was focused and methodical as he tried to get around the store as quickly and efficiently as possible. He wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing in leaving you alone with Annie, but time was on his side and he knew there was a high chance she wouldn’t wake up from her nap until after he was home. 

Still, he was on edge knowing that you’d tried to get out of it, even with the knowledge that she was fast asleep. He knew that between Helen and his mom, you hadn’t been on your own with Annie for a good chunk of time and maybe, maybe it was just what you needed to help you realise that it wasn’t scary enough to warrant running away from. 

He could live in hope anyway.

***

He could hear the loud, distressed cries before letting himself back in the front door, bags in hand. He fumbled with the key in his haste, dumped the bags in the hall and ran up the stairs two at a time, the adrenaline battling with panic in his chest as he strode to the nursery. 

He paused at the door for a millisecond to gather the information he needed. It didn’t take long.

Both his girls were bawling. You sat on the floor in the middle of the room, with sobs racking your body, holding Annie in your arms, who was red faced from her screams. Chris rushed to your side and crouched down next to you.

‘Sweetheart… what’s wrong? What happened?’ He stoked the hair away from your face as you tried to move the baby in to his arms.

‘Chris, you need to take her,’ you insisted, your voice hitching between words, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t… can’t do this.’

'Babe, what do you mean? She’s just crying, you’re doing fine. You’ve not done anything wrong,’ he continued the soothing motions against your hair and brought his other hand to the baby’s head.

'I can’t - I don’t know what she needs. I’m no good at this. She hates me.’

'Of course she doesn’t hate you. Both of you are all stressed out and probably making each other feel worse.’

'Chris, will you just take her, please?’ Again, you tried to hand her over so you could make it run for it. It had been a mistake to come in here when you’d heard her muffled, sleepy groans over the monitor. You weren’t sure if the noises meant she was awake or not and you were frustrated that you couldn’t tell. 

'You’ve got this, you can do this. I’m right here next to you, sweetheart. Just breathe. Try sitting her up just a little,’ Chris’ voice was gentle and the hand that had been stroking your hair moved to your back, running circular motions between your shoulder blades. 

You shifted an arm to prop her up at more of an angle and Chris softly rubbed his little finger over her bottom lip. She started making little kissy faces against his skin but her cries subsided slightly.

Once the noise had stopped, you felt like a fog had cleared from your brain. The hitches in your breathing were slower as your sobs eased off. 

'There,’ Chris said, still in that gentle voice, 'She’s hungry.’ 

You think you nodded in agreement. You gazed down at her face, focusing on the movements of Chris’ hand at your back. It was less difficult to stop the thoughts and memories if you could just focus on his hand. 

You were all silent for a moment, Annie’s cries temporarily placated by Chris’ finger. 

'Chris…?’

'Yes, babe?’ He whispered, trying to keep the delicate peace.

'I… I think I need - help.’

You felt him nod, rather than saw him, 'We’ll do it together.’

That one little sentence was enough to bring about a touch of relief in your body. Together. 

'First though, I think we need an afternoon for us, get some things out in the open and some time to relax in each other’s company. What do you think?’

You looked up at him then, face only two inches from yours, 'Just us? But what about… Helen’s not…’

He pulled his phone out from his back pocket and swiped at the screen before pressing the phone to his ear, 'Scott, we could use your help. Don’t suppose you’re up for some uncle duties this afternoon?’


	7. His Girls (Episode 4)

*** 

Scott had come through for his niece and had picked Annie up, shouldering numerous bags of the colossal amount of stuff she needed just to spend a few hours with her uncle. Scott had, at least, been thoughtful enough to buy an identical car seat to the one you and Chris had purchased, figuring that being the closest relative would require Annie to be in his car from time to time, and he had been right.

You watched from an upstairs window, not wanting your current state being witnessed by anyone else, as the brothers loaded Annie’s bags into the car, followed by Annie in her carrier. You felt a pull in your stomach as you saw Chris lean in through the car door, over where Annie would be, no doubt checking and rechecking the fixtures, pressing gentle lips to her forehead, telling her to be good for Uncle Scott and that he’d see her in a couple of hours. You could see it all in your mind so clearly and you desperately wanted to get to a place where you could be doing it yourself.

Chris closed the car door softly and walked around to the back where Scott was pulling the trunk closed. Chris’ face held a pained, concerned expression and you knew the turmoil you must be causing him. Scott wrapped a hand over his shoulder before pulling him in for a one armed hug. Chris held himself tense for a moment and then relaxed into Scott’s arm, clearly needing the comfort. Scott ruffled Chris’ hair and pulled him back, holding him at arms length and, judging from Chris’ nods, Scott was giving him a pep talk, the younger of the two needing to take on the role of big brother at this moment in time. 

You watched as Scott’s car crunched away down the gravel drive, Chris standing sentient with his hands in his pockets until the vehicle had disappeared from view before turning and heading back inside and you prepared yourself for the truths you were going to have to tell.

***

The next few hours exhausted you down to your very bones. There was so much, so much you had been bottling up inside you that letting it all go now was like exorcising a malevolent spirit and you were a shell at the end. 

You talked, you confessed, you cried and shouted and paced. But Chris was there throughout it all. He wanted nothing more than to help you and you knew, rationally, the only way he could do that was if you let him in on what was going on inside you.

He shed his fair share of tears too. When you admitted just how much the trauma of the birth was playing on your mind, he confessed that he’d never been so scared in his entire life as he had been watching you slip in and out of consciousness. When he ran you a bath and went to help you undress but you jerked away from his touch before he could get to the hem of your oversized sweater, he was stunned, eyes wide and processing your reaction, for a tiny moment before he placed a hand over his mouth and you cried together. 

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ you had pleaded over and over again as he gathered you into his arms, bunching the sweatshirt material desperately in clenched fists.

‘Don’t apologise, baby, your reaction just shocked me a minute, that’s all. You are so beautiful to me and it kills me that you can’t see it, that you’re not comfortable enough even to undress with me.’

‘I want to be able to,’ you sobbed, ‘I just… I can’t even look at myself in the mirror right now, I don’t know if I can let anyone else see.’

His solution was to put extra bubbles in and let you get yourself settled in the bath under the clouds of pure white foam before he came in and lowered himself into the warm, fragrant water behind you. He knew, perhaps even better than you did, that small steps were required. You leaned against his chest, breathing in the intimacy and his love and letting it knit you back together from the inside out. He listened as you shared more, telling him sheepishly how you’d treated Lisa when she’d been to visit. He soothed you, insisting it wasn’t your fault, that his mom understood. 

It was harder, however, to tell him about those feelings of jealousy that had consumed you, and the even darker thoughts that had crept in, the visions you had of doing something that harmed the baby, all so clear and vivid that you were completely lost in the consuming fear that you would end up hurting your sweet, innocent child. You explained how you were so full of fear and anxiety when it came to Annie, you weren’t sure if there was room for love in your brain. You had tripped over the words, hating yourself when you heard them out loud, admitting these thoughts and feelings that you were sure weren’t normal, that made you some kind of monster.

But still, Chris listened to it all, finally understanding how difficult the past few weeks had been for you. His fingers ghosted your skin in the water throughout all of your confessions and he never once made you feel like you were a bad person. He never recoiled his touch, he didn’t even so much as suck in a surprised breath. He was calm and nurturing and helped you get everything out into the open, allowing you to pour your burdens on his shoulders, allowed you some cathartic release. 

‘How are you not disgusted with me?’ You eventually asked him, wondering how much more he could take before his perception of you was changed irrevocably.

'Because I don’t have all those feelings of guilt that are distorting the way you view yourself. I look at you and still see my beautiful, strong, intelligent partner, who just happens to be struggling with the aftermath of a traumatic event and coping with a lot of change and upheaval in her life. I love you and what you’re going through right now, that isn’t wholly you. It’s part of you, sure, and we need to figure out the best way to help you feel like you’re controlling _it_ rather than _it_ controlling you, but it isn’t everything that you are. You’re still you, I promise. I did some research into this type of thing occurring after having a baby.’

Your lips curved up into a smile. He was incredible and somehow managed to pinpoint the root of all the worries and guilt you’d had over the last few weeks.

'Oh? And what did you find?’

'That post-partum depression affects somewhere between ten and fifteen percent of new mothers. That the timeframe differs depending on severity, mental health prior to giving birth and, of course, the support and treatment sought. But most importantly, it is almost always temporary and whatever you need throughout this process, I’m going to be right here, okay?’

You nodded, your eyes filling again. Somehow it felt a relief to hear the words, to have a name given to it. Post-partum depression. Now it wasn’t an unexplained force tearing up your life, but a condition, an illness, that had a name, a list of symptoms, decades of research and lots of suggested treatments. Of course, you needed to seek professional help before you could be sure, but you already felt like this was a tangible thing you could grab hold of and deal with. 

You knew then, lay there with Chris in the bath, surrounded by him, that this was the hardest thing you would ever go through in your life but that if Chris was here by your side, through it all, then you were a true partnership in every sense of the word.

***

Scott brought Annie back a few hours later and Chris left you to get dry and dressed while he went to help Scott bring everything into the house. You reclined on your bed, feeling wrung out and weary after your intense afternoon. But there was hope too, now, mingled in with your worry. Chris had helped set the wheels in motion to finding that hope and pulling it out of the darkness you had been living in.

You heard him padding softly up the stairs, the thuds of Dodger’s paws behind him, and when he carried Annie into your bedroom, you immediate response was to flee. Your legs tensed, ready to spring over the side of the bed, your hands tensed against the sheets. But then you remembered that he wasn’t going to leave you, that he would stay right here and you forced yourself to stay where you were as he approached, Annie making her snuffly, gurgling noises, happy to be in her father’s arms.

'Okay then baby girl, here’s Mommy,’ Chris spoke gently into the silence of the room as he lowered himself on to the bed next to you. He didn’t try to pass Annie to you, or even really draw attention to the fact that she was there. He just held her, sitting next to your still tense body, but relaxing with every second that went by. 'Want to watch a movie?’ 

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Dodger did a few turns in the middle of the bed before settling down, wedging himself between the legs of his humans, resting his head on his paws and watching Annie with interest.

'I think it’s your turn to pick,’ Chris handed you the remote, giving you something to do with your hands. 

You selected some action film that you’d seen before but was an easy watch that didn’t require too much brainpower. As the movie played, you found yourself casting glances at Annie out of the corner of your eye. She was fast asleep, pink and soft, and nestled quite contentedly against Chris’ chest. Her little Cupid’s bow mouth was pulled together and you could see the gentle, rhythmic movements of her body as she breathed. 

'That pout is all yours,’ you heard Chris’ voice. You looked up quickly at the sound, having not realised your studying had been noticed. He was smiling down at her but switched his gaze to you when he sensed he had eyes on him, 'Isn’t it?’

You nodded, your throat feeling as though it had seized up. You stretched out an index finger tentatively towards one of her tiny hands. Time, and your breathing, halted as your skin connected with hers. Her fingers reflexively opened at the touch and, on instinct, clamped around your finger. You heart drummed against your chest and the rushing sounded in your ears but you were motionless, fighting the feeling with everything you had. 

You glanced up at Chris quickly, for reassurance, and you got it. His eyes shone, his face relaxed, and you realised he wasn’t anxious about this at all. He thoroughly believed in your ability to be a mother. He wasn’t concerned that you would hurt her or were unable to look after her. It was all coming from you. It was a revelation.

You leant into his side and curled your legs towards his, never taking your finger away from Annie’s hand. Dodger shifted with you, resting his head on your knee, working with his master to help keep you relaxed. You could feel Annie’s light grip contract and relax as she tested out the feeling in her sleep. 

Chris’ pressed his mouth to your forehead and then spoke words of encouragement, the vibration of his deep whispering dancing across your skin.

'I’m going to be okay, aren’t I?’ you asked, looking up into his face. 

'Sweetheart, look at you. Look at what you’re making yourself do after just one afternoon of sharing your worries. You’re going to be just fine, trust me.’ 

You stretched your neck up to kiss him, your lips carefully pressing to his, trying to pour all your appreciation into it. 

'I love you,’ you whispered when you broke apart, your foreheads resting against each other, 'And Annie.’

'I know baby. We love you too. So much.’


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the conclusion! Thanks for sticking with me through this :)

‘So, how do you think the last six months have been for you?’

This office, with its homely furnishings and soft lighting, had become familiar to you over the last few years. You began with a visit every week, therapy being only one of the courses of action you had decided to take in the weeks after, what you now to referred as, your ‘baby breakdown’. You had been visiting every week for the first year, sometimes with Chris, sometimes alone, but like clockwork, every Thursday you arrived at this office and talked with Jane about anything and everything.

Eventually, you began attending less and less, with Jane’s encouragement, until you reached a point where you just wanted to keep a bi-annual ‘check in’ appointment, to be on the safe side. But today, you were here with a particular thought in mind. 

‘I’m good. I feel… stable, on an even keel. I’ve felt like that for a while now, like things aren’t precarious anymore. Like everything has been okay for such a long time that I can just accept this is the way things are without worrying they’ll go bad again. I think might be at a place where… I can start seriously considering expanding our family,’ you refrained from phrasing it as a question, knowing full well that Jane wouldn’t entertain you looking for answers: Jane asked the questions, you had to come up with the answers by yourself. 

You could predict, almost to the letter, what Jane was going to ask next. 

‘And how does Chris feel about this?’

Chris wanted whatever would make you happy, that much you knew. After your first therapy session, he suggested you cut back on work but still do part time. He understood that your job and keeping that control, that schedule would help your recovery. He helped you set up a work out schedule in your home gym (that was his really, if truth be told) to keep your mind and body healthy. He started running with you, despite his reservations about being photographed, as long as he could pick the time and the route. He cut back on the projects he had lined up for the year, turned down a role that he really wanted but would have taken him away from home for months. Slowly but surely, he helped you be alone with Annie, never drawing attention to the fact he was leaving the room for two minutes, or outside playing frisbee with Dodger for twenty minutes, until one day he announced he was going to the store as you were feeding Annie and you didn’t bat an eyelid. Chris did everything he could to aid you in your recovery, and never expected anything in return. But this - Chris would want this because it would make the both of you happy. Ecstatically so. 

'Well, I’ve not actually told him yet. I wanted to talk it through first. He’s always wanted a big family but he’s never brought up the subject since Annie was born. I don’t think for one moment he’s stopped wanting that though. So I can only assume he thinks I don’t want any more children. But I do.’

'You’ll only know the answer to that when you talk to Chris. It’s important to have a real, open conversation with him where you both share your wants and your concerns before embarking on adding to the family.’

'I know, we’re very good at sharing now. I know I can’t bottle up my feelings from him and especially if there’s a possibility I’m going be pregnant again.’

'Have you given some thought about the likelihood of the post-partum depression returning?’

You took a deep breath. Only every day. 'Yes. I know I can’t let my fear of it run my life. Annie’s going to be four in a few weeks. I think it’s time. But I’d like to step up our sessions, should I fall pregnant again. I don’t want to be knocked sideways by it like I was last time. If it’s going to happen, I want to be prepared.’

'That seems sensible, we can certainly arrange that when the time comes. Share all this with Chris and let me know if you need a session together before you come to a decision,’ Jane, straight-faced as ever, didn’t let on whether she thought you should have an appointment or not. So you had to break the rules and ask.

'Should we come and see you together?’ 

'It’s entirely up to you, based on what comes out of your conversation. Chris may have some things he would like to share, but if you’re both on the same page, you don’t need to see me,’ she gave you a small smile then, which she didn’t bestow lightly, 'You’ve come a long way in the last four years. You certainly understand yourself better than you did when you arrived here for the first time. Prepare yourself, rely on your support network and you’ll be just fine.’

'Thank you,’ you were a touch bashful, not used to Jane handing out words of wisdom and encouragement like that. You collected your purse from where it was propped against your chair and stood up to leave, feeling positive about your decision and your future.

Jane nodded and stood up to walk you to the door, 'All being well, I’ll be seeing you very soon.’

'I hope so.’

***

Arriving home, the house was quiet but the afternoon was warm and you knew where you would find your family. You headed straight through to the garden and saw Chris attempting to play a game of piggy-in-the-middle with Dodger and Annie, Dodger having been lumped with the poor piggy role. You smiled at their fairly unsuccessful game but started with a sharp intake of breath and a step forwards when you saw Dodger jump to catch the ball and land with his front paws on Annie’s shoulders, the weight and the momentum of him forcing her to the ground on her back. But Chris was right there, of course, hauling her up, his two hands tucked under her arms. When she was upright, you could see she was fine, laughing even, as Dodger licked her face in apology. 

As you stepped out on to the patio, you could hear Annie’s peals of laughter, Chris scooping her up and whirling her around and around. 

'Hey mommy’s home!’ She shouted, having caught sight of you out of the corner of her eye even as she was flying through the air. 

You started to walk towards them and Chris set Annie down on the grass. She ran over to you on her toddling legs and you caught her just as she tripped over her own foot and fell into your arms.

'Oh my baby Annabelle!! How has your day with Daddy been?’ Chris was jogging over to you as you cuddled Annie and smothered her face in tickling kisses.

'Moooommmmm, I’m not a baby anymore! I’m nearly four!’

'Oh, I’m so sorry, of course! You’re a big grown up girl!’

'Yeah, a big grown up girl who threw a tantrum this morning because we ran out of Lucky Charms,’ Chris said wryly, ruffling Annie’s hair and looping an arm around your lower back, pulling you to his side and leaning down to kiss you in greeting, 'Hi baby, how was your day?’

'Good thanks. Very… productive. How was yours?’

'Well, I got to spend it with my little girl so, honestly, pretty perfect.’

You both watched as your aforementioned little girl went running around the garden with Dodger, kicking his ball out from under him each time he almost got it. You could have sworn Dodger was letting her win on purpose, clever dog.

'Chris?’ Now was as good a time as any, you thought.

'Hmm?’

'I need to take a visit to the doctor next week, get my birth control prescription renewed and have my blood pressure checked and stuff.’

'Okay, what day will it be? I’ll make sure my schedule’s clear for the princess,’ he threw his thumb in the direction of where Annie was currently picking her way through a flower bed to retrieve Dodger’s ball.

'It will be Tuesday. It’s okay, Helen will be here. But I was thinking…’

'About what?’

'About maybe not getting my prescription renewed. At all.’

He was completely still at the side of you for a moment and when you looked at him, he had something like wonder across his face, before his brow furrowed slightly.

'Just to be clear, you’re suggesting we try for another baby, and not that I should get a vasectomy, right?’

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, 'Definitely the first option.’

He wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and he squeezed you hard, 'I’m… baby, you don’t know how much… this is the best news. I mean… are you sure? I haven’t wanted to pressure you or anything by mentioning it.’

'I know you haven’t, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I also know that before Annie, the dream was a big family, right? I talked it over with Jane today,’ and you told him about the strategies you’d come up with.

'But Jane also told me to rely on my support networks - so no pushing you or your mom away this time. Accepting help when it is offered. Being up front about how I’m feeling.’

You feel Chris nodding against you, 'We’ll be ready this time.’

***

'She finally settled?’ You asked, resting your book against your chest as Chris walked into the bedroom, pulling his shirt off over his head as he went. It was late and Annie had been asleep for hours but had woken up after a nightmare. Not wanting to disrupt her, so far, good habit of sleeping in her own room all night by letting her in your bed, Chris had offered to take one for the team and go sit with her until she fell asleep.

'Yeah, it only took three stories and a song,’ he joked wryly.

'I know, I heard your excellent performance of I See the Light. You’d make such a good Flynn Rider,’ you nodded towards the monitor in explanation as he disappeared into the bathroom. When he stood in the doorway to perform a tongue-in-cheek bow at your compliment, he had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

You shook your head, a smile on your face, 'Dork.’

You went back to reading until he came out, having finished his night time routine. You could see Chris in your peripheral vision, strolling his way over to you on the bed. He vaulted on to the mattress with one hand bearing his weight, jostling you where you were sat up on top of the sheets, and landed on his side, propping his head up on one arm. When you finally looked at him with one eyebrow raised, he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. 

Looking him up and down, you realised what he was after, 'Best boxer briefs, tensed abs, and is that…’ you leaned forward, pretending to smell the air theatrically, ’…cologne? You hoping to get lucky tonight, Mr Evans?’

'I was hoping it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility,’ he ran a fingertip up your thigh towards the lacy hem of your silk pyjama shorts. When his hand reached your hip, he rolled you towards him so that you were face to face. Plucking the book from your hands, he aimed it so that it landed smoothly on the nightstand.

'Hmm, I’ll think it over,’ you toyed with him, placing a hand on the defined muscles of his chest, nudging one of your knees between his. 

'I just want to show my fiancée a good time.’

That made you start and when you spoke, your words were breathy, dripping with shock, 'What did you just say?’

There was that shit-eating grin again, 'You heard.’

He reached under his pillow and pulled out a small, square box covered in black velvet and when he popped it open, the tell-tale 'Tiffany & Co.’ shining out of the black silk inside the lid, the ring took your breath away.

'Christopher…’ you gasped. He’d chosen well, simple and understated, elegant and classy: just what you would have chosen for yourself.

The 'yes!’ exploded from you without you even realising it, tears welling in your eyes. 

'I haven’t even asked you yet!’ Chris laughed around his words.

'I’m sorry! Go on. Ask me, ask me,’ a hand flew to your mouth to keep any more rebellious words from sneaking out. 

'I want you to know straight up that this is not the be all and end all for me. This is the icing on top of an already beautiful and delicious cake. As far as I’m concerned, in my head, we’re already together forever. Our promises are the things we do for each other every single day, the things we’ve weathered together and grown stronger from and our plans for our future. Our vows are in the life we’ve built for ourselves: our most important vow, well, she’s asleep in the room just next door. We may not have declared it in front of God, we may not have the piece of paper, but I don’t need it to know that I love you, with everything I am and everything I have.’

Your tears were flowing freely now as you placed the hand that had been clamped over your mouth tenderly against his cheek, never tearing your gaze away from those blue, blue eyes.

'Having said all that, I really fucking want to marry you,’ he turned his head to kiss your palm, 'I want to have wedding bands on our hands that tell everyone we belong to each other. I want to be able to call you Mrs Evans when you’re being cute or a little bit naughty. I want to go to bed with and wake up next to my wife. I want to you to introduce me to people like 'hey, this is my husband, Chris.’

You laughed through your sobs at that: like you’ve ever needed to introduce him to anyone. 

'I want Annie to be our flower girl on our wedding day. I want to stand in front of everyone we know and say 'in case you couldn’t already tell, we are one hundred per cent devoted to each other.’ So I don’t need marriage, I don’t need that piece of paper to make me happy, but I absolutely want it. And I hope, more than I’ve ever hoped for anything, that you want it too.’

You nodded ferociously, your joyous, choking sobs preventing you from speaking. You leant forward and crushed your lips to his, giving you time to find your words. 

'Yes. Yes. Over and over again,’ you whispered against his mouth. 

He pulled back to gently free the ring from its silk cushion and slide it on to your ring finger, both of you gazing at it standing proud against your skin.

'Look at that,’ Chris’ voice was filled with awe, holding your fingers gently in his.

'It’s beautiful, Chris,’ you agreed.

'Because you’re the one wearing it,’ he glanced back up to you and dipped his head to press his mouth to yours again, softly, tenderly this time, in no rush and with no haste, knowing that this was just another perfect moment in what would be a long life together.

You tucked yourself closer to his body, trying to eradicate any space between you. He wrapped his arms tightly around your body, helping your efforts, neither of you able to get close enough. 

The kiss quickly flared with heat and you ground your hips into his, almost on instinct. His hands wandered under the pretty silk cami you wore, matching the shorts he’d glided his fingertip over earlier, and he skimmed the skin of your back, heating your flesh with his hands, sending glorious shivers down your spine. 

You hooked a leg over his hip and pushed down, trying to find some friction and pressure where you needed it the most. 

'Shh, patience, sweetheart,’ he gently warned you when you whimpered. 

He rolled on to his back, taking you with him. You were lay the full length of his body, still attached at the lips, but, in your opinion, with much too little skin to skin contact. You sat up and went to pull off your cami but Chris held your wrists before you could get there.

'Let me,’ his request was earnest and, you knew, came from his memory of you recoiling from his touch when he’d tried to undress you for a bath on Baby Breakdown day. The first time you’d let him see you completely naked in the light was after weeks and weeks of therapy and you’d both sobbed, devastated that this chasm had appeared for two people who had always been so comfortable, so uninhibited with each other. 

Now, you could see your scars for what they were: a badge of honour, a medal for being strong enough, courageous enough to come through the other side. They had faded over time but Chris still liked to lavish attention on your stomach, wanting you to know that he didn’t see them as ugly or imperfect, so you didn’t need to either. 

So you dropped your arms and he sat up, you in his lap, and he savoured the removal of your cami, running his hands across your shoulders and stroking his thumbs along the sensitive skin under your breasts. He leant forwards to trail kisses along the route his hands had taken, but this time paused to swirl his tongue around each nipple, your back arching into him at the sensation. 

He wound his arms around and up your back, placing his hands near your shoulder blades, supporting you and tilting you backwards, your head lolling back, so he could have more access to your upper body. You could do nothing but grip his biceps tightly as each flick of his tongue over your nipples fanned the fire beginning to take hold low in your belly.

He pulled you forwards and caught your mouth with his again, cupping your face on either side, kissing you like you were a lifeline. 

You ran your hands down his ribs to the waistband of his boxer briefs, hooking your thumbs just inside, hoping Chris would take the hint.

'Babe, you’re going to have to get off me if you want them gone,’ he smiled against your lips. 

Huffing like it was the hardest thing in the world, you dismounted next to him on the bed and he propelled his hips upwards to pull his boxers down over his ass. You were there to help instantly, dragging them down at the front and freeing his dick. You kept going until they were off his feet and crawled back up his body, pressing light butterfly kisses to his thighs, hips and lower abdomen as you wrapped a delicate hand around his cock, stroking lightly, spreading his pre come with your thumb. 

'Hey, hey. Shorts, now,’ he demanded, pointing at your ass, propping himself up on his elbows. 

You knelt up, then pulled yourself up to standing on the bed, a foot on either side of his thighs and ever so slowly slid your shorts down your legs, keeping eye contact with him throughout. His were positively gleaming, the blue dark and bottomless. Lips slightly parted and glistening, the only movement was the rise and fall of his chest as his breaths quickened at your little strip show.

He sat up to hold the material still while you stepped out on the unstable surface and then he threw them with abandon across the room before reclining back against the pillows, hands tucked behind his head, eyes travelling the length of your body. 

'Fuckin’ work of art, babe,’ he sighed contentedly. A real, girlish giggle escaped you, which embarrassed you even more, but you were so euphoric after the events of the day, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

So, when Chris held up a finger and twirled it around in a circle while wiggling his eyebrows up and down, you obliged with a good natured roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. And because you felt amazing, you even gave your backside a little wiggle.

'Oh, that’s what I’m talking about.’

'All right big boy, put your dollar bills away,’ you told him as you turned around again, amused. You dropped and straddled him, staying up on your knees as you leaned over him and kissed him again, reaching down between you with one hand to stroke his cock once more, applying a little more pressure this time, drawing a low moan from his throat. 

You lowered your hips slowly, connecting with him, surrounding him with heat. You pushed his cock against your clit, sliding his head up and down, coating him with your wetness, spreading it over your swollen flesh. 

He sat up then, pushing you so your back was straight, ass pressed into his thighs, your calves tucked under you. You rose up onto to your knees and he gripped his dick, holding your hand in place around him, as you lined yourself up, his free hand cupping your butt.

Your faces were only an inch apart as you sank down on to him, letting him fill you completely in one smooth movement, both of you taking your hands away. He went to cup your other butt cheek, ready to help with leverage when you inevitably began to bounce on him. You placed your hands either side of his jaw, ring glinting in the lamp light, fingertips brushing the short hair at the nap of his neck, foreheads together, panting in unison, savouring the connection. 

'I love the way you feel inside me,’ you whispered. 

Chris’ only response was a grunt as you pulled up slowly, dropping your gaze down to watch him disappear into you again when you sat back. Then you set your pace, resting your forearms on his shoulders for leverage. 

Your bodies were pressed together as you bounced, chest to chest, hips to hips, thighs to thighs. You couldn’t get close enough as a delicate sheen of sweat formed on your skin and Chris pulled out of your grip to draw his lips across your collar bones. You ground into him, trying to get him deeper and deeper, feeling the delicious push and pull of his dick against your walls. 

Sensing you’d got your rhythm sorted, Chris’ hands went on a wander, palming your hips, ghosting each ridge of your ribs, skimming up your back to thread his fingers into your hair and hold you to him like you were precious, worshipping you, surrounding you completely with his arms. 

You bounced faster as he sucked lightly on your neck and down the smooth plain of your breast plate, feeling your orgasm just beginning to unfurl. 

'Chris…’ you practically sobbed, hands wrapped around his biceps, willing yourself to hang on and not shatter just yet. 

'I know sweetheart, I know,’ he placated you as one hand travelled down, over your clavicle, dragging slowly through the valley between your breasts, applying enough pressure that you could still feel his touch even after he’d moved on. 

He glided down over your stomach and, eventually, finally, his thumb connected with your clit: the lightest of touches but one that made you buck against him. You were so sensitive.

'Is that what you want baby?’

You swallowed thickly and nodded, hoping he would be merciful. You were grinding and bouncing faster and faster, pushing yourself to the edge as Chris’ thumb swirled your clit, setting up a maddening rhythm of light then hard touches. He added a finger and rolled the swollen nub between them.

You were almost there, you could feel it, just out of reach but you clamoured for it, digging your nails into Chris’ taut muscle, losing control of your rhythm and hoping that that would help you lose control everywhere. You were burning from the inside out. 

He sped up his manipulations, gliding over you with ease. Two more, three more bounces and your climax finally hit you like a freight train, shattering you as you fell against his chest, Chris’ long groan telling you that he’d come as well with your walls clamping around him relentlessly.

You sat there for a moment or two, catching your breath and coming down from your high until you found the strength to pull your head up and capture his mouth with yours, smiling against him. 

'Well, fiancée, that was fucking awesome,’ Chris peppered his words with pecks to your lips.

'Good job at rocking my world, fiancé,’ you quipped back. 

He snaked his hands up your back and lay you down, face up on the bed. He pulled out of you slowly, kissing you leisurely all the while, and lay at your side, propped on an elbow and gazing down into your face, one of his legs tucked over yours. 

'Shouldn’t you have your legs up or something now?’ He asked, gesturing down your body. 

Your brow furrowed, confused for a moment until the penny dropped and a chuckle escaped you.

'Babe, I won’t have even skipped a pill until tomorrow morning, I think it’s going to take some time before everything resets and it works. You’re going to have to be patient.’

'I know that really,’ he placed a hand gently over your stomach and his fingertips began to trace swirly patterns over the skin, 'But you know what they say, practise makes perfect.’

'And we’re going to have a lot of fun practising.’

'That we are.’

But then something occurred to you, 'How are we going to schedule getting married and having a baby. Which one should we do first? Should I keep taking the pill until the wedding?’ 

'No way! Can’t we just do both at the same time?’

’… you want me to give birth at our wedding?’ You deadpanned, 'I mean, I know the estimations are more accurate these days but I don’t think the best doctor in the world could predict it that closely.’

'I mean, oh Sarcasm Queen of mine, that what does it matter if you’re pregnant at the wedding? I quite like the idea of you waddling down the aisle to me barefoot with flowers in your hair. Like some kind of fertility goddess.’

You gave him a little smack on the arm, 'Christopher, I have never waddled, ever. Even walking into hospital in labour, I didn’t waddle.’

He laughed at your defensiveness and kissed your forehead in apology, 'I take it all back. I say, let’s just not plan to try and work the two things around each other. Let’s just go with the flow, see what happens. It’s going to be perfect no matter what, right?’

'As long as the four of us are there, nothing can possibly go wrong.’

'Four?’ Chris quizzed.

'Well, I imagine Dodger will have an invitation, won’t he?’

The furrows in his brow smoothed out in amused understanding, 'Are you kidding? He’ll be my best man!’

'Can’t wait to hear his speech.’

***

When Chris’ eyes fluttered open the next morning, it was still early. The room had an orange glow where the sun was beginning to come up and his immediate world seemed very still and very quiet.

He remembered the night before and checked under the sheets that you were both wearing clothing. Thankfully, you had remembered to put your pyjamas back on and Chris was wearing his usual soft cotton mid thigh shorts: an addition he’d had to make to his sleeping attire since Annie got old enough to walk into your room unannounced in the mornings, rendering naked sleeping a thing of the past.

He had been facing you in his sleep and he allowed himself now, before he closed his eyes for a few more hours, a moment to admire you. Your hair was swept back on the pillow behind you, your mouth in a perfect Cupid’s Bow (the exact same one Annie had inherited), long eyelashes fanned your cheeks (Annie was also blessed in the eyelash department, thanks to both her parents) and a dusting of delicate freckles danced across your nose. 

In the warm glow of the sunrise, you looked positively angelic, and he studied the ring sparkling against your hand splayed on the pillow in front of your face. He thought about how lucky he was to have you, and Annie, how much he loved you both and the life you had made and how now, unbelievably, it was only going to get even better. 

There were things on the horizon that were a concern - he’d secretly looked up the chances of post-partum depression recurring after a second birth and the percentages were depressingly high - but you were the strongest person he knew and your relationship could withstand anything now, he was certain. 

Although he knew that neither of you were as young as you had been when you first met, he did know for sure that you were both very much in love, and as long as you had that, everything else would work out just fine.


End file.
